How the West was not won?, Part 1
by sssms
Summary: AU: Bosco is captivated by a western adventure. Other characters: Sully and Ty, maybe others.
1. Default Chapter

How the West was not won?

Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original characters or places.

Rating: Mild warnings if any.

Premise: AU fic…Bosco is captivated by a western experience. Other characters – Sully, Ty, perhaps others.

Just a short intro to feel you out. Continue or no?

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"Bosco, what in the world were you thinking? What kind of vacation is this? A dude ranch." Sully shook his head and continued grumbling to himself.

Ty shook his head as well, laughing quietly. 'Leave it to Bosco.'

"What? What's wrong with a dude ranch, Sul? It'll be an adventure. How many people do you know that can say that they've been on a trail drive, huh? Fun on the open range." Bosco quipped, strutting ahead in his shiny new cowboy boots and his white Stetson.

"Have you ever even been on a horse, Bosco?" Sully questioned.

"What? Of course, Sully. Of course I have." Bosco answered. 'I used to love the carousel at Central Park.'

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Bosco frowned at the sight of the trail driver spitting chewing tobacco on the ground between them. He was an older man with giant shocks of grey hair, a long dirty beard, and one bulging eye that drifted every so slightly to the side. His gray pants and plaid shirt were faded, his brown hat tattered. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a red handkerchief and proceeded to address the group of city slickers standing before him.

"Now listen up, cause I don't like repeatin myself. This crew runs like a real trail drive. We'll be getting up come daylight and ridin' all day long. We'll stop for lunch and bed down after supper. Other than that, we only stop if the horses need a break or to round up strays. We won't be stoppin to take care of you city pups. You each paid good money to take this trip and it's up to me and Red Bear here to see that ya'll all get your money's worth. And that's what we intend to do, whether your feet and rumps like it or not. There'll be no whining, no coddling, and no turning back…so if you're not up to the task at hand…take your refund now and skedaddle."

Bosco swallowed hard, feeling the hard star of the man's bulging eye. He turned his head away and looked at Red Bear, a very large Native American man dressed in western attire. Red Bear stood with his arms crossed, his long black hair glistening in the sun, his face showing no emotion.

"I say we get our money back and leave." Sully spat, breaking Bosco out of the moment.

"Oh, come on, Sul. This should be fun." Ty teased. If nothing else, this should certainly prove to be a comical experience.

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Disclaimer #2: I do not own Central Park and if I've stolen some Native American name in Red Bear, please forgive. Just consider it borrowed.


	2. How the West was not Won, Chapter 2

How the West was not Won, Part 2

Rating: mild warnings.

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"Saddle up!" Sam, the bulging-eyed trail driver, ordered.

Bosco rubbed his palms on his pants legs and licked his lips nervously, staring in awe at the beast before him. The stallion had a sleek jet black coat marred only by a small white diamond shaped area in the middle of its forehead. Its powerful muscles flexed as it shifted its feet slightly. It was a beautiful animal indeed, but much larger than Bosco had anticipated. Much, much larger.

"Need help?" Red Bear asked gruffly, looking down at Bosco with a solemn face, his arms still crossed over his chest.

"No" Bosco squeaked, wincing at the uncertainty in his quivering voice. Clearing his throat, he repeated, "No. No, I'm fine."

Red Bear moved on to Ty Davis and John Sullivan, holding the bridle of Davis' horse to steady it as Davis mounted gracefully, looking as if he did this every day.

John Sullivan stood nearby, staring his own horse in the eye. "Now, you just take it easy, Daisy. I won't like this any better than you do, I'm sure."

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Bosco seeing Ty mount so effortlessly and even Sully mount with little difficulty, looked back at the sleek black before him. 'You can do this, Boscorelli,' he coaxed himself.

"Nice horse," he whispered. Reaching out he touched the black's shoulder gently with his fingertips, only to jump back as the horse snorted, jerking its head towards Bosco's hand as it moved its body away.

Once the horse stilled again, Bosco took a ragged breath, beads of sweat forming on his brow, then hesitantly stepped forward again. "Nice horsie. Good boy." He cautiously grasped the pommel of the saddle this time, rather than touching the horse itself, muttering, "Good horse." Then grabbing the rear of the saddle with his right hand, he readied himself to place his left foot in the stirrup and mount.

But Blackie had other ideas. The horse shifted back slightly, stepping on Bosco's left foot with his left front hoof.

"WHOA! Whoa boy!" Bosco said quickly, trying to shift with the horse, but realizing that he couldn't move his left foot. Looking down he saw that the horse was pinning his foot down with its hoof, although he wasn't putting enough pressure on Bosco's foot to actually hurt him. Looking back up in confusion, Bosco was surprised to see the horse looking at him, with what almost appeared to be a grin on his face. "What…"

"Having trouble, sonny?"

Bosco jumped slightly, startled as Sam spoke from behind him.

"He…" Bosco was about to point out that Blackie was standing on his foot, when the horse suddenly moved his hoof forward, looking ahead innocently. Bosco looked quickly at Blackie then back at Sam, his mouth agape.

"Well, don't just stand there with your mouth open catchin flies, boy. Mount up. We're wastin daylight." Sam spat and moved on to check on some of the other riders.

Bosco looked back at Blackie, but the horse looked ahead as if oblivious to the would-be rider trying to mount him. "Hmph," Bosco turned back to the saddle, grabbing the pommel in his left hand, the rear of the saddle with his right, and taking a deep breath. Shifting his weight to his right foot, he moved to lift his left when again a hoof planted itself on top of his boot effectively immobilizing him.

"HEY" Bosco looked up in shock to find Blackie looking at him and rolling his upper lip up so that his teeth showed. "Stupid horse" Bosco grumbled, getting no response out of the beast except for Blackie suddenly shifting more of his weight onto Bosco's foot. "Oww" Bosco yelped, then was relieved when the horse shifted his weight off of the foot again, although Bosco was still pinned.

Bosco pushed himself away from the horse slightly. Still clinging to the saddle for balance, he yanked his foot trying to extract it from under the horse's hoof. He pulled over and over again, growing more angry with each effort, but his foot didn't bulge. Looking up, he locked eyes with the stubborn animal, scowling at Blackie. Then he began shoving the animal with both hands, but failed to move the huge beast at all. "Move, you stupid jag-off," he growled.

Finally feeling his foot shift slightly, but not come free, he decided to try another route. Grabbing the saddle again, he quickly thrust his right foot into the stirrup and hoisted himself up, pushing with his right leg and pulling his left leg as hard as he could. A satisfied smirk graced his face, when his foot slipped out of his boot and he threw his left leg over the horse's back, his rump finally finding the leather of the saddle.

"Hey, Bosco. You're headed in the wrong direction." Sully cackled, shaking his head; then muttered, "Moron."

Bosco looked down, horrified as he realized that he was backward in the saddle, facing the horse's rear. His horror intensified, when the horse suddenly lurched forward, causing Bosco to fall, his face hitting the horse's back. He frantically grasped for something to hold onto, but the horse's sleek hair made the task nearly impossible. He finally wrapped his arms around the animal's body as far as he could reach, lying along the horse's back, his right foot twisted in the left stirrup and his left sock foot flailing in the air. "HELP!" he yelled, just as the horse swished his tail slapping Bosco in the face, then bolted forward breaking into a dead run. Squeezing his eyes tight, Bosco clung to the horse for dear life, a terrified screech escaping his lips.

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End file.
